


tell me we're dead (and i'll love you even more)

by hyruling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Sappy, idk man i just woke up in a blind rage and wrote some soft shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: “Go inside,” Bobby tells him, softer now. He inclines his head towards the door. “He’s waiting.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 186





	tell me we're dead (and i'll love you even more)

**Author's Note:**

> mom said its MY turn to write the sappy love confession fix it
> 
> listen. we all went briefly to hell this year and reverted back to supernatural, i won't apologize for this except for the fact that it's very likely out of character because i haven't actually watched a full episode of this show since season 8, and then this finale threw up all over my favorite shoes and called me stupid for ever caring about these characters. 
> 
> this is not even the fix it i wanted to write, because that fix it would omit the last two episodes entirely, but its the fix it that wouldn't leave my head because my clown nose was honking HARD during that scene with bobby when i foolishly thought we might at least get a glimpse of cas. anyway. 
> 
> cw for brief mention of suicidal ideation and excessive ooc sap. like seriously, heaven just kind of miraculously cures dean of all his repression in this, don't say i didn't warn you. title is richard siken because of course it is.

The beer is icy in his hand. Condensation runs down his fingers, but it doesn’t bother him the way it did on earth. There’s a breeze that rustles through the trees, warm on his face. Bobby takes a deep breath next to him, like he’s gearing up to lecture Dean about something, but then he’s quiet. Just breathing in the moment, apparently, the way Dean is. 

“Is Sammy gonna be okay?” he asks Bobby after a minute of comfortable silence. 

“‘Course he is,” Bobby answers in that gruff, no nonsense voice Dean’s missed so much. “He’ll miss you like hell, but he’ll be fine.”

Dean sighs “Yeah, I know,” he admits, taking another swig. 

They’re quiet again. The sun of heaven is warm on his face; he wonders vaguely if he can sunburn here. Bobby drinks next to him, glancing over as he leans down to grab a fresh bottle from the cooler between them. 

“I know that look,” Bobby says. Dean looks over to see him watching Dean shrewdly. “What are you thinkin’?”

“I’m thinkin’ that this… this is great, Bobby, really,” Dean says, finding it easier to be honest here. The words don’t clog in his throat, don’t burn and linger behind his teeth unsaid the way they did on earth. “But it’s not. It’s missing... something. Someone.”

“Ah,” Bobby utters, understanding immediately. Jesus, Dean missed him. “Of course.” 

“I didn‘t… I didn’t want to die, Bobby,” Dean explains, spreading his hands. “Or… maybe I did. Maybe I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he clarifies, running his thumb over the beer label. It’s still ice cold. “But... not yet. There were still things I wanted. I wanted to… I didnt get him out.”

“Dean—“

“No, Bobby, I know what you’re gonna say, but I  _ could _ have saved him. I just… I didn't try hard enough, I thought I’d have more time to figure it out, I was  _ stupid.  _ I kept hearing his stupid voice in my head telling me I should live my life, but it was. It was empty, it was—“

“ _ Dean _ ,” Bobby interrupts. 

Dean looks over—Bobby’s fucking  _ smiling _ .

Dean blanches. “Bobby what the hell, I’m baring my bleeding soul to you here—“

“I know that, jackass, if you’d just let me say my  _ piece.  _ You don’t need to worry about all that crap, boy.”

Dean frowns. “What do you—?”

“Go inside,” Bobby tells him, softer now. He inclines his head towards the door. “He’s waiting.”

It takes a second, but then Dean’s on his feet before his brain is even aware of it. They carry him automatically, barely sparing a glance back at Bobby laughing quietly at him before he’s throwing open the door, nearly falling to his knees when he sees that familiar shade of khaki waiting behind a well worn bar. 

“Hello Dean,” Castiel says. 

The room narrows. Cas looks the same as the day Dean met him, backwards tie and bullet holes included, except for his eyes. Even from across the room he can see the warmth of them, glossy with unshed tears, same as they were the last time they saw each other. Cas smiles and Dean grabs the edge of the nearest chair to keep his balance. 

“Cas,” Dean manages, voice failing him where before he felt so self-assured. 

“It’s good to see you, Dean,” Cas says, soft smile curling at his lips as Dean stumbles closer. 

Dean rounds the edge of the bar—he recognizes it now as The Roadhouse. It even smells the same, now that he knows where he is. Like scotch and sawdust. Cas watches him approach. To anyone else Cas would appear neutral, unaffected, but Dean knows his every facial tic, every micro expression—the closer he gets, he can see that Cas is apprehensive.

He doesn’t waste time. Not here, not ever again. As soon as Cas is within reach Dean has his arms around him, face pressed into his neck, breathing in the scent of ozone and Tide detergent and skin. 

Cas hesitates only briefly, and then his arms are around Dean’s waist, holding him tight enough that it would hurt, if he could hurt anymore. As it is, it doesn’t feel close enough. 

He doesn’t realize he’s speaking until he hears Cas gently shushing him. Cas lifts a hand to card through Dean’s hair. 

“—‘m sorry Cas, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” Dean gasps, louder now, tears spilling hot against Cas’ shoulder. 

“Dean, it’s okay,” Cas says softly in his ear. “It’s alright, shhh.”

“No it’s not,” Dean croaks. His fingers tighten in Cas’ coat, needing him closer. “How can you say that, what I did to you, I didn’t—“

“I didn’t want you to,” Cas says, finishing the thought for him. “I didn’t want you coming after me. I didn’t rescue you from Hell for you to follow me into another one.”

“I would have,” Dean says, finding his voice again. The truth washes off of him like blood, like the weight he’s carried since he was three years old finally lifting off his shoulders. “I would have, Cas.”

“I know, Dean,” Cas soothes, hand still stroking Dean’s hair. It pains him but he straightens, looking Cas in the eye because Cas doesn’t get it, he doesn’t  _ get it. _

“No, Cas,” Dean says slowly, hands cupping Cas’ neck. “You stubborn son of a bitch, you didn’t let me finish.”

Cas tilts his head—Dean feels his muscles move under his hand and smiles, fondness threatening to burst from him like an overflowed dam. 

“Not just now. Before—when you. Said all those things, about me. How you felt.”

It’s still sticking in his throat. Even here, even after everything, after the regret that haunted him for weeks—for years, really. It still feels unreal, the thought that Cas could love someone like him, could see into Dean’s wrecked, tarnished soul and still deem him worthy of love. 

Cas straightens his neck. “You mean when I said that I love you,” Cas clarifies, deadpan but with a gleam in his eye, because he’s a bastard. 

Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah.  _ That. _ ”

“I was under the impression that it was… unrequited,” Cas says carefully. 

“You think I don’t love you?” Dean asks, incredulous. He lowers his hands from Cas’ neck; Cas catches them in his own. 

“No, not… not exactly,” Cas answers, running his thumbs over the top of Dean’s hands. “But I thought that it wasn’t… in the same way.”

Birds chirp outside the window. It’s silent but for their song, and Cas’ quiet breaths. Cas lowers his eyes, closing them entirely when Dean touches his cheek gently. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes, almost afraid to disturb the silence. 

“I thought that, before,” Cas continues, eyes still closed. “But then you say my name like that, and I don’t—I don’t  _ know _ .”

“Maybe if you’d let me get a word in, for once,” Dean teases. Cas opens his eyes and frowns—Dean loves it almost as much as his smile. The first few years he knew him, Cas’ frown was the only expression he knew. Until he figured out how to make him smile he grew to love that frown, gone out of his way sometimes to evoke it just to see something other than his constant poker face. 

Dean looks at Cas’ hands in his and smiles. “You know, when the Empty took you, I drank myself to sleep for a week straight,” he admits. Cas’ grip tightens. “I know that’s not… You wanted me to keep living, to have a life, to move on, but I  _ couldn’t _ . Because you left, again, and I still couldn’t.  _ Believe _ that you meant what you said.” 

“Dean, I—”    
  
“Let me just. I gotta get this out, man,” Dean says, lifting his eyes to Cas’. Cas’ lips press together and he nods. 

“All these years, and how many times have I asked you to stay?” Dean continues. He feels his fucking lip quiver and forces himself to keep going. “Over and over, and you never—there was always something else, something bigger than me, and I don’t blame you, okay? You said I was selfless, but I was a selfish bastard when it came to you. All I ever wanted was for you to stay, even if it meant the rest of the world went to shit.” 

Cas’ eyes are wide. He looks  _ so  _ young, an absurd thought to have, because Cas is several millennia old and his human body doesn’t age. And yet when Dean looks at him, he sees the Cas he first met in that barn all those years ago, the Cas that gave up everything he loved for Dean, that died for him over and over again.  _ His _ Cas. 

“I tried to do what you wanted, Cas. I tried to keep goin’, tried to get out. I even applied for a fuckin’  _ job,  _ a good old fashioned nine to five, and I was so close to it, I—” 

He stops. Cas releases one of his hands to gently touch his neck, thumb smoothing under his jaw when Dean leans into the touch. 

“Thing is, I wasn’t gonna let you go,” Dean says thickly. “When Chuck wouldn’t bring you back, I started looking for a way to get to you. I didn’t tell Sam, I wasn’t gonna—we were both so close to getting out, I couldn’t ask him to go into the Empty with me. And I knew he was trying to save Eileen, even if he wouldn’t tell me. Probably for the same reason. And then—then those stupid fuckin’ vampires,” he breaks off with a humorless laugh. 

“You deserved better, Dean,” Cas says fiercely. His forehead presses against Dean’s—Dean closes his eyes and breathes, letting the tears fall. “You deserved the life you wanted, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean admonishes. “You gave everything for me, remember? You couldn’t have given me anything else.” 

Cas exhales—Dean feels it warm on his cheek. “I’m afraid... I’ve given you something you can’t give back,” he says. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Cas pulls back. “I— _ burdened _ you with my confession, I never wanted to do that to you, I never meant to—” 

Dean shakes his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he interrupts with a small laugh. 

“Dean, just—” 

Dean kisses him. 

It’s a long time coming, and probably amplified by whatever good-feeling Heaven juice they got cooking up here, but it’s got to be the best thing Dean’s ever felt. Cas’ lips are warm and dry, the way he always imagined they would be. It takes a moment for Cas to respond, and then he’s kissing back, tentatively at first, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed this. Dean cups his jaw, tilting it as his tongue swipes Cas’ bottom lip, and then Cas is pulling him closer by his hips, mouth moving desperately against Dean’s. 

They kiss for a minute, an hour, a day—time really is fucked up here, he has no idea. Cas is everywhere, pressed against him and in his veins, his grace sparking in Dean’s blood. Cas rebuilt his body and his mutilated soul and loved him through all of it, and Dean feels the remnants of it thrumming through his chest. When they eventually part, Cas has a kiss-stupid look on his face that Dean can’t help but laugh at. He kisses him again, just a soft peck on his top lip. 

“Oh,” Cas breathes, and Dean laughs again. 

“And he’s got it,” Dean jokes. Cas smiles, eyes shining and warm, and it’s the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen. 

“Dean, I never—I never thought you would—”    
  
“I know, Cas. I never  _ let _ you see, not really. Though in hindsight, the mixtape should’ve been a lot more fuckin’ obvious.” 

“Sam did tell me later that was a popular romantic gesture for your generation,” Cas admits, and Dean laughs so hard he loses his breath for a good minute. 

“I do, you know,” Dean says, voice only breaking a little on the last syllable. “I love you.” 

“Dean…” 

Cas’ lips are on his again, his hands are on Dean’s face, and he thinks that for the first time, Heaven got something right. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” Dean says against Cas’ mouth. “I want to see what you’ve made.” 

Cas ducks his head and smiles. “I admit, much of the design was inspired by you.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean says with a grin. “Leaving Baby right out front for me wasn’t exactly subtle.” 

“Your mother is here, you know,” Cas tells him. “As is Ellen, and Jo, Charlie—everyone.” 

“Shit, that’s. Shit,” Dean says, gripping Cas’ elbow for support. “You and Jack really outdid yourselves.” He looks around. “The Roadhouse, right?” 

“Yes,” Cas answers proudly. “Ellen and Jo are usually here, as are most of your family, but I asked them to give us some privacy today.”

Dean’s heart warms at the word  _ family _ . “Did you know I was coming?” Dean asks. 

“Yes,” Cas answers simply. “I heard your prayers. All of them.” 

Dean kisses him again, hard, pulling him close. He doesn’t think he can ever let him go again. If he’s lucky, he won’t have to. 

“What time is it?” Dean asks when they part. 

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t work the way it did on earth,” he explains. “It’s whatever time you want it to be.” 

“Sunset,” Dean says. “I wanna watch the sunset with you.” 

“Of course, Dean,” Cas answers with a smile. 

The light changes, falling orange and pink across Cas’ face through the dim windows of the bar. Cas takes his hand and leads him outside where the sun is low in the sky, painting the landscape and touching every part of the earth around them. 

Bobby is still on the porch, watching the sun as it sinks slowly. He looks over and doesn’t even bat an eye at Cas’ hand in his. “Where you boys off to?” 

“The lake, I think,” Cas answers. 

Bobby nods. “Enjoy yourselves.” 

Cas tugs Dean’s by the hand, leading him to the door of the Impala. Dean climbs in—Cas got every detail right, down to the slight mildewy smell from the air conditioning Dean never got around to fixing. Cas comes around to sit in the passenger’s seat and takes his free hand again when they’re settled. Dean smiles at their joined hands, then at Cas, and drives. 

He knows, somehow, exactly where to go. Cas doesn’t give him directions and seems to know Dean doesn’t need them. He drives both nowhere and somewhere, turning when it catches his fancy. The sunset waits for them, driving through the country with the windows down and Cas’ mixtape playing softly until they’re ready, and then the lake is there, ready for them. 

They walk hand in hand to the end of the pier. It’s the same lake Dean used to dream about, the one where Cas often visited him in his dreams. They sit on the edge—Dean takes his shoes off to let his feet dangle in the warm water, and after a moment’s hesitation, Cas does the same. Dean chuckles at the sight of his bare feet, a sight he’s rarely seen in the years he’s known him. Cas grins and presses his shoulder against Dean’s, and when Dean wraps his arm around his waist, Cas leans his head on his shoulder with a content sigh. 

“Look at that,” Dean says quietly, Cas’ hair tickling his chin. They have a perfect view of the sun, brilliant shades of orange, pink, and gold rippling atop the water. A few ducks flap their wings and dip their heads underwater nearby. 

“I never thought we’d be here,” Cas says after a few moments. “Part of me still worries this is only my heaven, that you’re not really here.” 

“I’m here, Cas. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

He squeezes Cas’ waist, tugging him closer. He feels Cas looking up at him but keeps his eyes on the sunset—it’s not like Cas has never seen him cry before, but he’d rather keep this to himself right now. 

“What do we do now?” Dean asks after a few peaceful minutes.

“Whatever you want, Dean,” Cas answers. 

Dean hesitates, shifting uneasily. Cas senses it, of course, and sits up straight. Gently, he tilts Dean’s jaw towards him, until they’re face to face. 

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asks. He trails his hand back to hold Dean’s neck, tips of his fingers in his hair. 

“You,” Dean says.    
  
Cas closes his eyes for a moment and smiles. Dean waits, and kisses him when his eyes open again. Cas allows the distraction for a few long moments before he pushes him gently back. 

“What  _ else _ , then?” Cas presses. 

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean sighs. He looks back at the water, thinking of how to phrase what’s been nagging at him. “This place, what you’ve made, you and Jack… it’s perfect. But I—I can’t help but miss it, you know?” 

“Earth? Sam?”

“Yeah, both, of course,” Dean says. “More than that, though, I miss… I miss what I was working towards. I had all these ideas, before everything that happened, before you… were taken.” 

“I see,” Cas says quietly. He rests a comforting hand on Dean’s knee. Dean looks at it for a long time before he speaks again. 

“I wanted a regular life. A job, a home, maybe a family…” He glances at Cas. “I wanted to  _ live _ , you know.” 

“You still could,” Cas says. Dean swallows thickly. “Jack could send you back. He— _ I _ thought you’d be happy, here, but if you asked—”    
  
“I am, Cas. It’s not that I’m not happy, I just. After everything, I wanted the rest of my time on earth. And Sammy deserves to have that too, and I know him. He won’t settle, he won’t stop hunting unless I’m there to tell him it’s alright to stop. Unless he knows I’m okay.” 

“I think you underestimate Sam,” Cas says slowly. “But I understand what you want, Dean. You deserve to have it, you deserve to have anything you want.”    
  
“Cas,” Dean says, feeling ridiculous as he blushes. “I don’t want any of it unless you’re there too. Could you—would you be able to—” 

“Yes,” Cas answers for him. “Jack would do that for me, I’m sure of it.” 

Dean hesitates, avoiding Cas’ eyes as he asks, “Would you stay? I mean really stay, if I asked?”

He feels Cas’ hand on his face again, guiding him as he kisses him in lieu of an answer. His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue in the light of the dying sun. “Of course, Dean. Nothing could take me away from you, not anymore.” 

Dean shivers. “Would you be human?” 

Cas shrugs. “If that’s what I asked. Jack could remove my grace, if I chose that.” 

“Is that what you want?”

Cas looks at him, head tilting slightly. “Is that what  _ you _ want?” 

“I want you to be happy, Cas,” Dean answers honestly. “If that means being human, then yes. But only if it’s what you want.” 

“Being with you in any form would make me happy,” Cas says, too earnest. Dean blushes again and looks away, not used to this open and unabashed devotion. 

“I don’t care if you’re human or not, Cas. I—I love you no matter what.” 

“If I’m human, I can grow old with you,” Cas adds. 

Dean’s chest squeezes. “I know.” 

“But I can protect you better as an angel. And I—of course, I prefer my angelic form, I think. It’s how I was created, it’s what I know, what I’m most… comfortable as.” 

“Then you stay an angel,” Dean says decisively. “Simple as that.” 

“Dean—” 

“No, Cas. No more sacrificing shit for me. We don’t have to do that anymore.” 

Cas nods. “Very well. I suppose I can always influence my body to age with you, if you’d like.” 

“Deal,” Dean says. 

They shake on it, which makes Dean laugh, and then he’s the one to lean his head on Cas’ shoulder. Cas lifts a hand to his hair again, and for the first time in longer than he can remember, Dean is at peace. 

“When do you want to leave?” Cas asks after a while, when the sun has nearly sunk below the distant treeline. 

“Hmm. Five more minutes,” Dean says sleepily. 

Cas chuckles and continues to comb his hand through Dean’s hair, twisting around to press his lips to Dean’s forehead. Dean soaks it all in, committing everything about this moment to memory. The warmth of the setting sun, the way it looks on the water, Cas’ arm around him, solid and gentle all at once. 

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Don’t let me forget this,” Dean tells him. “When I’m old as shit and can’t remember my own name, I want to remember this. I want to remember you.” 

“I won’t,” Cas promises. “I swear. This will all be waiting for you, when you’re ready. For both of us.” 

Dean grins. “I guess we can always visit in my dreams, right?”

“Yes,” Cas replies. “Always, Dean.” 

Dean straightens and stands, taking it all in one last time. He holds out a hand to Cas, pulling him to his feet. Cas takes his face in his hands and kisses him again, soft and perfect, and presses his forehead to Dean’s. 

“Ready?” 

Dean smiles. “Lead the way, huggy bear.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm fucking crazy... but i'm free. 
> 
> i'm not actually free though i'm still full of rage so i may continue this, or write the fix it i actually want to write, so idk watch this space maybe? or not? idk but i love you thanks for reading <3 and if you're wondering if i omitted j*hn from heaven on purpose, the answer is yes, because if anyone deserves to stay in hell it's him. :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking), [tumblr](https://hyruling.tumblr.com/)


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